The willingness to share does not make one charitable; it makes one free.

I have never considered it my business to disabuse someone of a belief that makes life tolerable for them.

The first goal of writing is to have one's words read successfully.

Sometimes I wonder — if I were drop-dead handsome, and every woman I met actually dropped dead, would I ever get tired of it?

Perhaps we are given a mom that we might take into death the memory of a lullaby.

Who does not wish to be beautiful, and clever, and rich, and to have back, in old age, the time spent trying to be any of them.

Time is a figure eight, at its center the city of Deja Vu.